


Flutter

by nomadichead



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadichead/pseuds/nomadichead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>flutter (verb)<br/>1. to move gently but with quick changes in direction or with a wavy motion<br/>2. to beat rapidly because of a medical disorder or because of nervousness or excitement</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flutter

**I**

  
  
It was just the two of them and they were a tangle of limbs and Pete’s gentle sounds of laughter at whatever they’d left on the television. Their breath had met in midair and if it had been anyone else, Patrick would have felt trapped but Pete had this way of making him feel like time had calmed. He also made his heart hammer and his palms sweaty, but he didn’t mention that. Pete had buried his face into the fabric covering Patrick’s chest and mumbled something about night-time wishes and when Patrick had hummed low in his throat and when he placed a comforting hand over Pete’s chest, he’d felt a heartbeat flutter under his hand.  
  


**II**

  
  
They met when Patrick was just bordering on naïve except that maybe Pete had always been more immature then Patrick, so Patrick accepted the role reversal pretty fast. When he’d opened the door to someone who made him feel less like the world was crashing down, he hadn’t asked any questions. Because maybe he believed a little in destiny.  
  


**III**

  
  
The split was harder than Patrick had imagined it would be. He didn’t really believe in soul mates or fairytales, but Pete had earnest eyes that could convince the world. Pete hadn’t drawn it out because he and Patrick had been through enough to know that this was meant to be  
.  
“I’m going to marry her, ‘Trick.” He hadn’t whispered or choked on his words and as Patrick watched him, he pretended not to notice the tremor of Pete’s hands.  
  
“I know you are.”  
  
“It doesn’t mean…” Except that really it did and maybe Patrick’s heart had been left broken inside his chest. Maybe it didn’t matter.  
  


**IV**

  
  
Patrick didn’t always cope like people (read: Pete) expected him to. So when he’d received a bunch of crumpled paper smeared with ink and too much worry he hadn’t known what to do. The band was still getting to know each other, where they stood, although Pete didn’t really understand the concept of boundaries. No one listened to An Evening Out With Your Girlfriend and really it was kind of shitty but it was _awesome_. So when he skimmed the words he had been given, it felt like his stomach might somersault its way into his chest because this wasn’t what he expected. Everything felt raw and Patrick felt like he shouldn’t really be in contact with these half rhymes and jilted metaphors. It felt like he was absorbing a part of Pete that even he couldn’t see. By the time From Under The Cork Tree was released, Patrick had maybe begun to understand and hated himself because it was too late.  
  


**V**

  
  
When they first performed on stage as Fall Out Boy, Patrick felt like everything inside him was electric. Currents danced across his skin and dug their way into him until he could feel the rhythm beating in his chest. The world was alight. He could feel a body pressed close to his and for a moment, Patrick breathed.  
  


**VI**

  
  
“Patrick?”  
  
“Mm? Pete? Is that you?”  
  
“I just wanted…”  
  
“Go to bed Pete. We’ll talk tomorrow.”  
  
When the darkness around him went silent and there was a heavy breath on the back of his neck, he knew there was no place else.  
  


**VII**

  
  
Patrick hated Jeanae. He hated her in a way that made acid seethe in his guts, but sometimes Patrick can admit that maybe it was envy. Pete loved her like everything depended on it and she was fucking crazy. Patrick couldn’t be the kind of narcissistic that Pete needed, the kind of self-loathing that Pete swore was his creative outlook so he watched and collected splinters on the pathway and wished that he was a girl who wished for something meaningful.  
  


**VIII**

  
  
Patrick didn't cry at his death. Patrick didn’t cry at his funeral when the oppression of black made him feel like something crushing his lungs. Patrick didn't cry at the tear stains that marked the cheeks of the person he could never be or at the small child sedate and still in her arms. Patrick didn't cry at the body that had once been full with warmth and hope and pure belief. When he stepped into the cold air, it pierced his skin and he shuddered, a sign that he still remained. A bird called and the cacophony inside his head was similar to the melody of a song he once knew.  
  


**IX**

  
  
… and when he placed a comforting hand over Pete’s chest, he’d felt a heartbeat flutter under his hand.


End file.
